


YSAW????

by cascadewaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: #blameJeffDavis, #surprisecrossover, #trifandom, #waitforit, #yeswecallhimJohn, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascadewaters/pseuds/cascadewaters
Summary: You saw a whaaaaaaat????  Kind of crack-ish.  WARNING: Reference to a parent actually parenting.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Even for Beacon Hills

John was just about to bite into his sandwich, the first food he’d had since his morning Pop Tart, when the call came on his cell phone. 

Stiles.

He expertly juggled food and phone to answer, but before he could get a word out, his son started spewing, and it took a minute for the sheriff to get a word in edgewise. 

“Waitwaitwait… you saw a *what* in the north woods?” John had to be hearing this wrong. But no, his son repeated it, twice. “Okay, well… just… leave it alone. Be quiet. And stay put,” he ordered, then hung up and speed-dialed number 3.

“Yeah, Scott, listen, I need you to go to the north woods and find your lieutenant. And I need you to figure out how much he’s had to drink, or how much Adderall he’s taken, or what’s knocked him over the head, so I can figure out if and for how long he won’t be able to sit down. He’s rambling about unbelievable stuff… even for Beacon Hills.” After telling Scott what Stiles had said, John ended the call, confident that the young alpha would take his ‘suggestion’ as not a suggestion at all. 

Less than half an hour later, Scott called back.

“Well. Stiles did *not* find a triceratops in the woods.”

“Oh. Good.” John’s tone was drier than desert air. 

“He found two.”

John guppied for a moment. “You wanna run that by me again, kid?”

“Yep. Two. Mom and baby, or so I’m guessing, since I’m not getting close enough to peep between legs, and neither is Stiles. Judging by the fact that the baby’s about the size of Mr. Germaine’s fattest beagle, it's probably pretty new. Er, well... you know what I mean. They’re both alive, though they seem kinda… I think maybe exhausted, and possibly dehydrated. We’re gonna do what we can for them, and try to figure out where they came from and how they got here. We’ll update you later.” And Scott hung up.

John stared at his phone, gaping and blinking. That little punk had just hung up on him, after saying some crazy stuff and implying that he and Stiles were about to do something that could be dangerous. Not that any of this was real—they were talking about dinosaurs here. So it couldn’t be dangerous to track where the dinosaurs came from, because there were no dinosaurs. Not for millions of years. Nope.

He looked at his badge in the mirror.

Beacon County.

He turned on the ignition, popped into gear, and floored it. He hit the lights and sirens for good measure as he blasted his way toward the north woods.

If his kid (and his kid’s big-for-his-britches best friend) weren’t dead, they would be when he got his hands on them.

Dinosaurs.


	2. A Really Good Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You fed it what????

Deaton came in through the front of the clinic. “Scott? What did you need?” Of course, he’d come when Scott had called, but with no explanation and no obvious distress in the young alpha’s voice, Deaton had no real idea of what was going on. 

He walked into the exam room and… blinked. He still didn’t know what was going on. 

His assistant stood next to the table, for once next to an actual animal (he hoped it was an animal, or some poor wereperson was at a serious tactical disadvantage.) The animal was fat, greenish-gray, with a hide that looked pebbly from across the room. The head was an odd shape that was somehow vaguely familiar, and the creature was perhaps the size of a medium dog… a fat one. It also had three knobby protrusions at its brow and snout. 

Alan Deaton briefly stepped backward through the doorway, took a clearing breath, and then returned to the exam room. Nothing had changed. He hadn’t been drinking, hadn’t partaken of anything unusual, hadn’t even had a chimichanga from Allsup’s for dinner. 

“Uh… Scott…??” The Druid gestured vaguely toward the exam table.

“It’s okay, Deaton. Pretty sure it’s only a baby. I think it’s just dehydrated, maybe a little banged up, but I want to be sure. Stiles is out on the preserve, trying to figure out how it got here and how to get it back to safety.”

The creature let out a trilling little moan, its eyes small and dark and confused, and Deaton was at its side without consciously choosing to move. He was working out how to check for injuries when he gently pressed on a spot between a knee and a foot, and the small(ish) creature let out a cry of pain that was startlingly loud. Deaton’s eyes went wide, and he looked up at Scott, a little alarmed. “Where is the mother?”

“Back parking lot. Wanna see?” Scott turned and led his emissary through the back door, showing him the small lot that, under the floodlights, looked like a crime scene.

The walls and pavement were splattered with red; more red literally dripped from one of the parking signs and one of the light fixtures. This seemed fairly horrifying to Deaton, but Scott was obviously not alarmed, and Deaton soon realized why:  
A much, much larger version of the creature on the exam table stood in the parking area, surrounded by red and green. As the Druid watched, the…. mother…. used her snout to roll forward an oblong green shape. She snuffled all around it, nudged it a few times, licked it, and opened her mouth and descended on it, using her beaked upper jaw to bite into the object, which promptly burst explosively, splattering the area, and Deaton, with scarlet sweetness.

Deaton blinked a few times as the stuff dripped down his face. He cut his eyes to Scott. “Watermelons? Really?” he asked drily. 

Scott shrugged. “She’s a herbivore. And that guy with the fruit cart gave me a really good deal.”

They watched as she… the triceratops in the parking lot… contentedly munched, making short work of most of the remaining melon before retrieving another one and repeating the entire process.

“Scott… how many watermelons did you buy?”

“All of them.”


End file.
